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Post by Eʟʏsɪᴜᴍ Pʀᴏ on Feb 27, 2018 10:13:12 GMT -8
[Singles Match]
Casey Grey vs. Tiny Des
Deadline: Friday March 9th, 2018 at 11:59pm EST
Limits: 2 Promos of 1000 Words Each [Maximum]
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33 POSTS & 26 LIKES
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Post by Casey Grey on Mar 1, 2018 2:58:05 GMT -8
The scene opens on a black 67 GTO turning off of a two lane blacktop road and onto a gravel access that runs alongside a railroad track. The gray clouds racing across the sky are mirrored on the car’s roof, hood, and deck lid. It drives along the path, the tires crunching over the small rocks, past where a tree line begins to encroach on the right hand side. After about a hundred yards from the main road, it stops. A moment passes and the engine shuts down. The door opens, and Casey Grey steps out wearing black boots, loose fitting jeans, a black hoodie, and her trademark black and green “Buttercup” cap. She pockets her keys and phone, shuts the car door, and walks up the berm to the tracks. When she speaks, her breath clouds in front of her face.
“Boredom makes you do crazy things. Since I left my last federation I’ve had plenty of time to look up all sorts of weird facts and trivia.”
She raises her arms to her sides.
“Like this. Did you know that in this country railroad tracks are all four feet, eight and a half inches apart? It’s crazy right? Such a strange number, ya know? There’s like…a whole story behind it.”
Casey begins walking along one of the rails, one foot in front of the other, arms at her sides to help her balance before hopping back off the rail and onto the crossties again.
“See, what happened was back in England, they used this measurement. And then, when we Americans started building railroad tracks over here, we just used the same one because basically it was the same people doin’ the buildin’ with the same tools. It’s a simple explanation but it begs the question, why did they do it? Well, there’s an answer for that, and it’s because that’s how wide wagon wheels are spaced. Gotta ask again. Why? Well, all the ruts in the roads in England were four feet, eight and a half inches apart.”
Casey reaches into her pocket and pulls out a standard U.S. quarter and places it on the rail to her left.
“Why?”
Casey shrugs.
“Still not making sense, right? Why not make the wagon wheels five feet apart and make it simple for everyone?”
Casey removes a golden round from her pocket and places it on the rail to her right, near as anyone can tell directly across from the quarter. She looks at the quarter then the round before continuing.
“It was the Romans. See, their chariots used two horses, and they designed their chariots to ride almost perfectly behind them. And with all the roads over in Europe and England that the Romans put in, it was only natural to use the same spacing as their war chariots since it was the same war chariots that put all the ruts in all the damn roads to start with. That’s crazy right! Think about it. The distance between those two coins I just put down was determined a couple thousand years ago by some guy way over in Rome. Rome, Italy, not Rome Georgia. That wouldn’t make sense.”
Casey steps over to the outside of the right rail and stands on one of the cross ties.
“I mean, it’s totally worthless trivia unless you work for the railroad or are going on Jeopardy or something, but I thought it was a fun story, and now it’s a thing that everyone watching this knows. And I told it so that I could get to the second part, which is where Tiny Des and this match we have coming up at Frontline comes into play.”
Casey looks to her left and points ahead, along her previous direction of travel. The camera pans around. The train tracks go on for, probably, a couple of miles before disappearing.
“You see that? See how those tracks seem to get closer and closer together the further and further down the line you look?”
The camera pans back around. Casey points at the quarter on the far rail.
“That quarter is basically Tiny Des. This solid gold round over here represents victory at Frontline. Now see, Tiny is over there, looking down the line towards our match and she can see it. The further we get down the road, the closer she thinks she’s gonna get to that win. But it’s an illusion. A trick of perspective. See, these rails will never touch. She’ll never reach that victory. It’s so close but just out of her reach because only one of us is on the right side of the tracks,”
Casey bends down and picks up the round. The stand in for victory.
“Because ya see, when there’s two brand new wrestlers facin’ each other, what’s on the line is whether or not you’re actually relevant. And nobody, nobody is going to get one over on me. Not even the damn Romans, Des, so pack a lunch and ask your friends to borrow some of their gameness ‘cause I think you’re gonna need more fight than you’ve got once we get to Frontline.”
Casey begins walking backwards along the tracks towards her car. She points to the left rail, at the coin representing Tiny Des.
“I’m gonna leave that quarter right there. In about two hours, six hundred tons of unstoppable force are going to come barrelin’ down this track and complete the whole metaphor of what’s about to happen to Tiny Des in Phoenix.”
The camera remains focused on Casey as she continues walking, and after a few steps she turns around one last time and shouts
“Always bet on Grey!”
The camera then pans down, focusing on the quarter, zooming in until it fills the screen.
Fade to black.
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33 POSTS & 26 LIKES
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Post by Casey Grey on Mar 7, 2018 14:56:01 GMT -8
The scene fades in on Casey Grey sitting in the driver's seat of a car. She adjusts her mirrors, seat, and looks over at the camera while fastening her seat belt. She’s wearing sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat. "I love driving. I really do. There's just something about a nice car, a big, loud, powerful engine, and sitting at a traffic light knowing that you have the baddest...thing on the street that just really gets a girl's blood flowing, you know? I mean, take ol' Buttercup for instance. You turn that key, that engine starts up and sets off car alarms a half mile away, lap dogs hide under their mothers' skirts, and it sounds like the hammers of hell are chasing you down the street. But this..."Casey holds up a finger for emphasis as she stomps on the gas. The Nissan Leaf rockets forward at a comfortably slow pace. "UGH! This thing farts rainbows and pink flowers! It doesn’t even make a noise! Oh, Buttercup, Buttercup, wherefore art thou?!" With the last line, Casey makes dramatic, over-exaggerated Shakespearean gestures. No hands on the wheel. Not even really watching the road. She regains her composure with a smile.
"All right. I'm gonna turn this thing off and I'll be back on when I get where I'm goin’."Black. Casey sits on a rock as the sun beats down from above. She has a liter sized bottle of water in her hand. “The last couple of weeks since I’ve been signed on with Elysium have been nice. I mean, the vacation I had was fine too, but I seem to have settled back down into a nice routine and it’s had a sorta comfortin’ feelin’ about it. I get up, get breakfast, get my coffee, go to the gym and hit the black irons, machines and cardio, then back to the house for a quick bite o’ lunch. Social media, then some more light cardio and stretchin’ and flexibility trainin’. Then dinner and I gotta say that the vittles have been nice lately, so no complainin’ there.
But even with a routine that I’m used to and sittin’ up here enjoyin’ the view o’ the city, that Frontline keeps comin’ back. It’s like when it’s rainin’ outside and you drive up to the house. You get out the car and when you walk under the porch roof a drop of cold water drops down the back o’ your shirt. Somethin’ like that’ll wake ya up in the mornin’, and that’s what Phoenix has been this past week. One big, long wake up call.” Casey takes a long drink of water before she resumes talking. “I can only think that if I’d stayed home I wouldn’t be feelin’ this way. Az is a great host and all, and is Jenny on da spot whenever I need somethin’, but my own bed has its own comfort. My car, my fool brothers…everything has a groundin’ quality of their own but on the other hand, maybe this is better. I’m focusin’ more on my match comin’ up. I mean, for God’s sakes, you can look right down there and practically see the Talking Stick Arena from here! There’s no peace from it anywhere, and the more I been thinkin’ about it, the clearer it gets that I don’t care who is across from me on Sunday. It just happens to be Tiny Des, and whether I make her squeal in the muzzle or I silence her altogether with the Racklash, she’s goin’ down." Casey hops off of the rock, takes another drink while walking along the trail and climbs up onto another rock. To the southwest, the city of Phoenix proper sprawls across the desert. “When I bought my ticket out here I told myself I was gonna climb this mountain. I did what I said I was gonna do and here I am. And just like I made it to the top here, I’m comin’ out on top Sunday. And let me tell you something else. I bet this match is going to be the first one on the card. I understand why that is but I can tell you that it’s a mistake. This is gonna be a war. I know Des knows how important this match is, there’s no way she don’t know. If anybody watchin’ this is goin’ to the Talking Stick on Sunday night, order your nachos and beer early. Hell, order some extra and after I win this match maybe I’ll share some of ‘em with ya. Same if you’re stayin’ home! You better order that pizza and wings thirty minutes in advance so you can be all comfy in your chair when the bell rings. Wait and take your bathroom break during the World Championship match, because this match is the one you want to see.”Casey turns to look over the city, holding her arms at her sides like the Christ the Redeemer statue in Brazil. “Casey Grey and Tiny Des! Ground Zero at the Talkin’ Stick!”She lowers her arms and after a moment turns back to the camera. “Right now I gotta say that it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t address my opponent and offer up some words of encouragement. After all, we’re both professionals here. Tiny Des I got one last thing for ya. I’m walkin’ out of this match relevant to the future of Elysium. You’re gonna be damn lucky if you walk out at all.”Casey hops off of the rock and starts heading back down Camelback Mountain. “Now to get this car back to Azurine. She might not be too keen on the subtle difference between stealin’ and borrowin’ without permission.”
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Jobber
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Post by Tiny Des on Mar 9, 2018 0:29:32 GMT -8
We were greeted by the terrible fashion sense of Tiny Des, a rainbow of denim and leather that paid no heed to the guidelines of color compliments. The room where she stood enthusiastically decorated by a japanese woman that stood at six feet. She followed the same garrish guidelines with streamers and construction paper. To completely offset the color explosion is another woman dressed in a grey hoodie. Seated, she was attempting to read a book while the other woman were busy playing home makeover. Tiny drew the attention of the camera back to her.
“ The Tiny and the Grey. We skim along the realm of the familiar and yet the unfamiliar at the same time. Tiny has heard of the Grey, but has never met the Grey. And the Tiny that the Grey has heard of is not the Tiny of today. The passage of time can be a static but chaotic thing, funny that. But anyway, how does the Grey like my room?”
“Cachu hwch”
Tiny Des was interrupted by the woman in the grey hoody. Who was apparently Welsh, or at the very least spoke Welsh.
“I see nary a cockroach, Ais-”
“Ash Fi...I don’t want my real name involved in this “
The thickly accented voice quick to cut off once more. Tiny shrugged it off and continued on her spiel. Whatever she was going on about.
“Does the Grey feel so uncomfortable within the vibrance?”
She pointed out the Welsh woman. Apparently using the contrast of the woman’s grey apparel in comparison to the explosion of color.
“It’s natural. It’s closing in on the Grey. The spectrum, the little rays shall bounce and reflect until they overwhelm the Grey. So cast off the discomfort, Tiny has learned to do such and never felt more liberated. Tiny learned what held back her Destiny. The Destined was reserved, always thought too far ahead. A risk taker only by name. The fiery illusion indeed, only leaping when her harness was secured. Now Tiny has learned to cast aside such things. When it is time to leap, Tiny leaps. When it is time for cake. Tiny make cake. And when it is time to drop the tiny hammer upon the Grey crown. Tiny will drop the hammer on the crown of the Grey. No hesitation, no preamble. But there shall be plenty of fanfare, feel free to join in the dance if you wish.”
The tall woman turned and shouted with glee.
“Dance!?”
A chuckle falls from the lips of Tiny.
“Yes, Kemi dancing.”
Ash Fi slammed her book shut and stormed out of the room, in search of somewhere else to read her book. While the scene fades out
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